


Until the next life, friend

by GhostedAlien



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gen, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-02 09:57:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21159779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostedAlien/pseuds/GhostedAlien
Summary: A HermitCraft Zombie Apocalypse AUIt all started with a bang.It created life.It brought life to what should be deadDISCONTINUED





	1. All Stories have an end

_Doc's POV (Time: 3 months before the Explosion)_

It was all so overwhelming. So many things could have been prevented. Yet no action was ever taken until it was all too late.

Doctor Mark was a genius beyond his time, beyond his own capacity, and beyond ethics. He had morals, of course, but even he often didn't follow them. He valued knowledge more than anything else, even his own life. His many body parts replaced with cyborg parts was a constant reminder to him and his colleagues.

Explosions were always the most commonplace accident. Or that is what is most publicized. Explosions. Always the best explanation for media. Explosions were half the truth though. Yes, somethings exploded from time to time, but never just anything normal.

Dr. Mark's laboratory, The NovuTest Stronghold, is often a place of peculiarity. They attempt to break the laws of physics, the laws of nature, and the law in general. Most people agree that his pursuit of knowledge is admirable, but they also agree his methods are detestable. Still, there are those who fund his research and have him continue his work.

One day, Dr. Mark made a decision, a decision he's been debating with himself for quite a while. He knew of its dangers, definitely not the most dangerous he's tried encountered, nothing can top off nearly creating a black hole after all, still dangerous nonetheless. What made the usual risk-taking scientist sit on this decision was the backlash he wasn't usually concerned about. He knew that if another controversy arose, it would be the end of his career.

Dr. Mark was interested in combining Radio-biology and Virology. A task he was only partially willing to take on, unless he had the support of his sponsors.

He scheduled a meeting on that day, all of his sponsors agreed to show.

At the top floor of the NovuTest Stronghold's main building was a meeting room, only meant for occasions like these. It is one of the 5 rooms at that floor. It had a 3-meter-high ceiling, a square layout with 10 meters from glass wall to glass wall. It had a giant screen and a large table with few seats.

By 4 pm, all of Dr. Mark's sponsors were seated, not knowing what to expect.

Dr. Mark entered the room, doing an odd gait compared to his usual professional demeanor..

"Welcome everyone, thank you for joining me at such a short notice, and thank you for coming here yourselves and not sending any representatives," He greeted, a German accent decorating his words. Dr. Mark looked at his patrons, pleased with the attendance, seeing that some even brought extra guests to give second opinions for the sponsor themselves.

"I have called all of you here to inform you of an experiment that's yet to be done." A change in the atmosphere occurred. "I call it the Potentia Plena. I plan on creating a sort of different method of changing brain structure through vector borne bacteria. It is known that the human brain does not use its or the body's full potential, Potentia Plena will alter the brain so its maximum potential is reached."

"However," the Dr. continued, "This experiment will be using the dead. It will revive them with peak performance as their natural ability."

The Dr. has only worked with alive, consenting humans so far. Sometimes even using CRISPR to make his test subjects and experiments. This will be the first time he has used a deceased person.

This wasn't his biggest breach of basic ethics though, but learning from experience, its best to tell his sponsors before proceeding on experimenting with human life.

A voice piped up from one of his patrons, hidden behind a blue mask of a creature a different NovuTest Stronghold has created. "Why does it have to be the dead? Last I heard you still have at least 20 more volunteers for your tests."

"There are more who consented that are dead, Sir ConCorp. This can also lessen the blow of potential scrutiny for my lab and your names."

The other attendees agreed with his statement.

An older gentleman spoke, his sleek black suit messed with red powder stains, "So this will bring them back to life?"

"Yes, this experiment can also actually pioneer other experiments. If we can see humans at its most basic and most primal, we may see more experiments to come with this as its control group."

An hour later of discussion and it was approved. Project Potentia Plena was underway.

And that is where it all went wrong. 

_(Time: 1 month after the Explosion)_

Doc was still recovering from his injuries. When the Potentia Plena containers exploded during an experiment, Doc was at the center of the blasts. Ren was the one to pull him from the wreckage and helped with his injuries.

"Doc? Do you know where we are?" The hybrid asked the still dazed scientist. Doc was slumped against a wall of a warehouse Ren decided they would take shelter in.

"Yeah, we're at the convention right?" Doc scrunched his face in an effort to form a thought. Ren's brows furrowed and bit his lip.

The last time Doctor Mark attended a convention was before NovuTest gained its infamy through its unethical practices. Ren kneeled down next to Doc and pushed back his hair to better examine his injuries on the remaining organic side, then pushed back the synthetic hair of the cyborg side, Doc groaned at the disturbance.

Ren was no medic nor mechanic, but he thought himself knowledgeable enough to help Doc. Yet the fact that he has no idea what to do next still remained a fact. He doesn't want to risk killing his last friend.

"What experiment were you about to present to the other guys?" He questioned again, trying to see how much Doc can remember.

Doc had to use a great deal of effort to think this time, then sighed in defeat. "I wish I had an interesting enough experiment to present to them." Ren was content with that answer.

He was only remembering the early days of NovuTest, then. Ren sat cross legged next to him, thinking of what he could do next.

Doctor Mark was not always so unempathetic and dismissive of any kind of moral law. When NovuTest was in its infancy, it already nearly shut down, and in an effort to keep NovuTest Dr. Mark started a controversy.

Then another.

And another.

Until it became a routine, a habit, as natural as time passing.

Ren looked into Doc's eye again, he saw a haze, a blur, and something else. Whenever Ren looked into that eye he saw nothing but the chill of a person with no warmth. Now, he saw light, an innocence, not in the terms of not knowing, but in the terms of not doing.

He saw a man that has yet to play god.

Ren had the idea to keep him from doing so ever again.


	2. The Architechs

_Grian's POV (Time: The Explosion)_

Grian was an architect’s son, a child of an extremely wealthy family since his parents owned apartment buildings and the rent money went to them. 

That’s where he was when the Explosion happened. He was at the basement of one of the apartment buildings, hanging out with his friend Mumbo. 

They heard the roar of distant fire and emergency services’ sirens. “What do you think’s burning right now?” asked Mumbo 

“Something unimportant probably.” 

The sirens wailed louder. 

The effects of Potetia Plena weren’t immediate. It took 2 weeks before the exanimalis rose. 

The pair was back in Grian’s basement, playing more video games, they had a sleepover and planned on continuing it for the next few days. They were old enough for their parents to not care about their whereabouts, but still childish enough to be ecstatic over a week long sleepover. 

Sirens entered their background noise, they paid no attention to what was happening outside. Until gunshots startled them. 

“What the hell is going on out there?” asked Mumbo. Grian paused the game for him to check. He peeked out the door to the first floor and saw a resident fleeing into the building. 

“Excuse me, miss but what’s with the-” 

“My sister! I saw my sister walking! But she died last week!” The resident exclaimed. 

“Wh-” 

“Mumbo!” Grian called from the basement. He turned back to look at the woman but she was already running off to somewhere else, so he went back down. 

“Mumbo you better watch this,” Grian worried when Mumbo was still going down the stairs. 

The news talked about the Explosion at The NovuTest Stronghold weeks prior, a laboratory 25 minutes away from the apartment buildings. The newscaster said that Dr. Mark, the head of NovuTest was experimenting on the dead with a vector-borne virus. The Explosion was what released the virus into the air, infecting the dead, and the dead then in turn bit the living, spreading it even more. 

“The bite would kill any living creature, with the virus reviving the animal,” said a scientist, who took up Dr. Mark’s experiment after the Explosion. 

_ (Time: 4 months after the Explosion) _

“It’s pointless, Grian. You’ve been at it for an hour now. Just give it up,” Mumbo pleaded to his friend. 

Scouting. Scouting is what the survivors call exploring the area around their base. They do it to look for supplies, a better location for their base, and sometimes other survivors. And that is what Grian and Mumbo have been doing. 

They ventured not too far from their newest Home Base, an old 3 story building stripped to its foundation, only leaving the stairs, corners, and floor, but it was protected by a chicken wire fence and surrounding overgrown foliage. 

Grian was armed only with a pipe and crowbar, carrying only a small first aid kit in his backpack. Mumbo only had a crowbar, but had his backpack half-full with a few cans of food, a can-opener, a better first aid kit, and an alarm clock to be thrown in case of a swarm came their way. 

While scouting they found a row of warehouses of a small food supplier, but they were all closed shut. The giant doors were deadbolted, and barricaded with cars. Mumbo was able to move a car by hotwiring it, but the steel doors was Grian’s focus. 

Grian ignored Mumbo and kept banging on the welds with his pipe. “Grian please, there’s got to be another way inside.” He huffed and turned to face Mumbo. “Look, this is obviously just a way to make sure there’s only one entrance to keep outsiders from getting in.” 

“And how are we supposed to look for the real entrance, huh? If the people in charge of this place is smart enough to do this, then the real entrance will take hours to find!” Grian questioned, voice at a volume of an almost-shout. He hit the door again in a rage. 

“We should have just continued. With all the time we wasted here we could have found more stuff,” Mumbo argued. 

“Then go leave me!” Grian yelled, face softening when he saw the hurt look on Mumbo’s face. He sighed. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s... it’s fine.” 

A few raindrops fell from the grey sky, the two friends looked up at it. Grian accepted defeat, while Mumbo was already running his way to a tree for shelter. 

Grian slowly walked over to where he was waiting. “We can go here first thing in the morning tomorrow, ‘sides, our current stock can last us a week at least if we ration,” Mumbo said, watching Grian sadly make his way over. 

He smiled at that. “Sounds like a plan then.” 

Mumbo smiled back. “Just don’t make it routine,” he replied cheekily. 

The next day Grian and Mumbo were making their way back to the warehouses with the cover of terrain. They were making their way over a hill overlooking the storage when they saw a sight they thought they wouldn’t see for a while. 

A warehouse entrance was open. 

A car was driven into the doors. 

They cautiously ran towards the site, unsure if someone was around. They snuck inside. 

The place was filled wall to wall with floor to ceiling shelves with canned foods. There was tuna, sardines, fruit. The pair could only stare at the vast supply of food before them. 

“Who could’ve done this?” Grian asked, in an incredulous whisper. 

“I don’t know,” Mumbo murmured in response. 

“I think you would know, Mr. Jumbo,” replied someone from further inside the warehouse. Grian jumped at the sudden response, and so did Mumbo until he lit up upon recognizing that voice. 

He bolted towards the voice while Grian hesitantly ran after. Mumbo noticed a light being cast on a wall and recognized it as one coming from a flashlight. 

When they were being shone on the pair, all Grian was able to see was a silhouette, but Mumbo squealed, “Iskall!” 

Iskall opened his arms and Mumbo ran into them. “I haven’t seen you in ages, dude!” Mumbo greeted, fixing his wool jacket and white button up. “Oh and, uh, sorry for hugging you out of nowhere. 

Iskall laughed. “It’s fine, I’d have the same response if I hadn’t seen my best friend and he just suddenly showed up.” He noticed Grian watching the exchange, “And you! Come over here.” 

Grian and Iskall knew each other through Mumbo, they’ve interacted plenty before since Iskall and Mumbo both work in the Redstone industry and Grian would visit Mumbo time to time. Grian was slightly embarrassed that he wasn’t able to recognize Iskall’s voice immediately. 

“How are ya, Grian?” He asked, hands in his pockets, clearly trusting the pair that stumbled upon him. “Anything giving you guys any trouble? The swarms in your city were hell to get through.” 

“Yeah they were, we weren’t able to get out early though, we were still inside when it got quarantined.” Iskall became concerned. 

“Oh, that’s terrible! How’d you get out? Any injuries?” 

Mumbo replied, “We stayed in an apartment building’s basement and moved during day. We travelled through the subway tunnels so the exanimalis encounters were few.” 

“What about you though?” Mumbo asked. “And where’s the rest of your group?” 

“I was able to get out of my place and teamed up with Stress. We just stuck to camping and parkouring on rooftops and buildings.” 

“Parkour?” 

“Not really, just jumped from fire exit to fire exit at times.” 

“And where’s this Stress?” Stress was virtually a stranger to Grian and Mumbo, only hearing about her but never meeting. She was Iskall’s neighbor and friend, that’s all they knew. 

Iskall bit his lip. “It’s a story for another day... but long story short; We lost contact. I have no idea how or where she is.” 

Grian and Mumbo looked at each other, then at Iskall, then at each other again. “You could always join us,” Grian offered. 

Iskall shook his but smiled. “Thank you, boys, but I can handle things just fine. Remember that car over there.” He jerked his head towards the open doors. 

“But it’s so dangerous to go solo,” Mumbo pointed out. It’s true. Most solo survivors don’t stay survivors for long. Groups are the best chance of survival, depending on the number. However, right now, the Architechs can use another member, especially one as skilled as Iskall. 

“I’ll think about it then, I’ll stay here for a little longer to decide.” 

“You were about to leave the area?” asked Grian, shocked that anyone would leave a place after finding such a good source of supplies. 

“Yeah, I’ve taken what I need already from here and most of the surrounding area. Then I’m gonna go north. You boys can take as much food as you need from here.” 

A few hours later they decided on going back to their base with Iskall. Making the trek back slowly because their bags were filled with cans of food and water bottles. 


	3. Covenant

_(Timeline: 11 months after the Explosion)_

Doc was getting irritated. Him, Ren, Xisuma, and False were scouting for any supplies they could come across and their barren search had to come to a halt.

It had started raining. Rain was dangerous scouting conditions. It lowered visibility and could mask any sounds that might alert them to threats. Yet, Doc was having absolutely none of it.

He was so sick of it. The place they have moved to was high up on a plateau, it was cold and drizzled constantly.

“Keep going,” he ordered.

“Go back,” commanded Xisuma at the same time.

They looked at each other and Doc was about to press on when he saw the others were about to follow Xisuma instead.

“Fine, you guys retreat, I’ll keep going.”

Xisuma was startled, “Wait, Doc-“

“It’s fine, Xisuma, I’ll go with him,” said Ren, and made his way to Doc’s side.

Xisuma and False hesitantly took a step back to the way they came from, looking at Ren and Doc, but when they didn’t move, they headed back to the base.

They understood Xisuma and False’s hesitance to leave them alone, the pair virtually had no weapons among them.

Doc had retractable spikes which appeared at the knuckles of his cyborg arm and had armed his normal arm with a trench knife.

Ren had no weapon at all and preferred a more direct approach. Ren wasn’t a normal human being, most wouldn’t even consider him that. He’s a hybrid. His genes were modified to be more canine. His sense of smell and hearing were beyond that of a human’s. He even had the teeth, ears, and tails of a dog. So when it came to fighting off exanimalis, Ren would outright bite them, immune to the virus.

The rain, it had turned out, came from the direction Ren and Doc were headed, making the rain heavier the more they tread. They took shelter in an abandoned home.

Ren’s ears perked when he heard an unusual noise outside the home. “What is it, Ren?” Doc turned on heat vision at his cyborg eye.

Ren gave a low growl to attract any exanimalis nearby.

The knob turned. They positioned themselves to attack than to defend, no exanimalis can use knobs. The door slowly opened.

“Easy there boys,” called out a brown-haired woman.

“Oh, Stress.” Doc retracted his spikes, Ren

“Funny seeing you lot out here ain’t it? What are you doing here? Last time I checked, I’m the one supposed to be scouting.”

Stress works in a business that started up during the apocalypse. Member For Hire, or MFH as it’s more known. A solo survivor will work with a group as a Scout, in exchange for protection, supply stability, and reputation. It will provide the benefits and disadvantages of being solo and being in a group at the same time. Doc’s group, surVIve, has hired Stress as a Scout recently.

“Well we decided that we’d contribute.” Stress scoffed at that.

She huffed and set down her bulky backpack, which gave a resounding thud. “Then you have a lot of catching up to do.”

Ren removed his padded gloves and took a look at its contents.

The main compartment was filled with cans of food and bottles of water, the sides where water bottles should be had flashlights instead, the front pocket had medicinal herbs. “Worth two weeks of food, assuming you still eat thrice a day with midnight snacks.”

Doc growled in irritation, not wanting to admit that he had just wasted his team’s time.

The four on the scouting missions had just split up due to the rain. Xisuma and False ran the opposite direction of Ren and Doc, on the way back to their base.

They stopped at a bus stop to wait out the drizzling and catch a breath. Doc had ordered the scouting at dawn, now the sun was overhead, rainclouds working as an umbrella against it.

Xisuma removed his purple and black motorcycling helmet, a layer of protection against any spraying exanimalis fluids, to breathe better.

“You think they’re alright?” asked Xisuma.

“Yeah, I doubt there’ll be a swarm at that district. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Xisuma shook his head. “Not Ren and Doc- Joe and Cleo.”

They both realized something simultaneously.

Joe is a pacifist, he mostly contributed to the group through farming, base fortification, and additional supervision during negotiations. Cleo is an abnormal exanimalis, fully sentient while fully dead, she is too frail to put up any good fight as she decayed faster than the normal exanimalis. Seeing as neither of them fought, another surVIve member would typically accompany them at the base.

However, this time no one was with them.

They bolted through the steep, narrow, and winding roads that were made for the landscape, they had a good memory of their base’s surrounding geography. They couldn’t run at top speed, the drizzle had made the slopes dangerous enough, any accidents would slow them down even more.

The pair slowed down as they approached the base and saw smoke coming from the chimney and saw hints of movement through the boarded-up windows of the home.

Their base was a 5-story home, more tall than wide. It more resembled a building than a proper house, each floor appearing like a spacious room since they had little to no walls within the base itself. It had a chicken wire 6 feet tall fence at the backyard and cement walls framing the small lot. They had boarded up the gates, doors, and windows to the outside so the only way in was climbing over with chicken wire and climbing up to a treehouse which had a bridge to the fifth floor.

The pair did so and made their way down each floor, looking for Joe and Cleo. They were at the staircase to the first floor when they hesitated, they heard voices that didn’t belong to Joe or Cleo. False, who was ahead of Xisuma, raised a hand signal to him to be quiet.

She pressed herself up against the steps and wall to minimize any movement or noise, observing the intruders without seeing them.

It was only a few moments when she recognized their voices.

The Convex.

The Convex was a peculiar group. It really only consisted of Cub and Scar, the Vex, but they had several MFHs and a few collaborating groups. They had a system, Supplies for Services. In exchange for supplies provided they would provide services like transportation or lessons essential for survival, in exchange for services like killing exanimalis they will provide supplies. They also had debts. If one were to avail their services with nothing in exchange, or consume supplies with no service for compensation, they will be in debt, a dangerous thing to be.

False despised that system, preferring groups collaborating rather than an entire relationship built on what one owes to the other. Doc shared the same sentiment.

Cleo was talking to Cub and Scar while Joe was passing around some tea, the fireplace providing a relaxing ambiance in the otherwise cold and dark interior of the house. False and Xisuma listened in to the conversation happening, waiting for any hint of what the Convex wants from them, but Joe and Cleo were doing most of the talking.

“That’s why it’s important to- Oh there they are!” Joe noticed the pair at the steps. The Convex, who had their backs turned to the stairs, looked at them.

“Ah, Ms. Symmetry and Mr. Void, we have been waiting for you for quite a while,” aired Cub, a bespectacled lab coated man. He made the Convex work internally, he ran the farms and production, and kept the record of MFHs, groups, and debts. He had greying hair despite his relatively young age. Cub was also seemingly the only person who bothered to wear a tie during the apocalypse, a black tie decorating his neat blue shirt underneath his stained lab coat. He’s open to conversation, but only after finishing the conversation would anyone realize it never actually went anywhere

It was Scar’s turn to speak up. He had a similar attire, a light brown button-up under a dark brown coat that reached down to his thighs. He worked with the MFHs and groups, and made the negotiations. He walked with a cane due to an accident from his childhood. “We want to make a deal with surVIve.”

False pulled out her falchion and gestured it at them, “We’re not interested.” They didn’t react, simply looking at her and the falchion like it’s nothing.

“What’s this deal? What are we providing here?” inquired Xisuma, making his way past False to talk to the Convex face to face.

“We require your service, we can offer supplies.”

Xisuma thought for a moment. “Let’s discuss this deal further then.”

“Wait you can’t be serious-“

Xisuma turned to False, “Let’s hear them out first.” Then to the Vex, “And we already have everything set up don’t we? I don’t see a reason why we can’t have the deal right now.”

False could think of a million reasons, but kept her mouth shut.

The set up Xisuma was referring to was the environment of the deal. Ample lighting, supervisors, and a table and chairs were the ideal for deal discussions.

Deals had weight, significance. It was almost sacred to the survivors. It meant trust, respect, and dignity. They were oaths.

Xisuma gestured to a small square table with two chairs at opposite ends placed along the front of the fireplace. The furniture pieces worn and repaired with duct tape like most items in the base. He pulled out a chair for Scar and sat at the other. Once Scar was properly seated, Cub went to his left side, and False went to Xisuma’s right side, both of their weapons drawn with False and her falchion and Cub with his machete. The negotiators held up their right hands and closed it to a fist, indicating them to lower their weapons, and the two supervisors complied but didn’t take their eyes off each other.

A plethora of events can happen from this if the Convex and surVIve did collaborate. Convex is already well-respected, but so is surVIve.

SurVIve got its name from the group’s goal and number of members it has. It already had garnered a reputation among the few and isolated survivors of the area.

Doc and Ren are a cyborg and a hybrid respectively, allowing them to be capable of beyond human abilities. Xisuma is a weaponsmith, he handcrafted some of the weapons surVIve uses. False is a world-class fighter, lethal to exanimalis and survivors alike. Joe is observant, constantly surrounded by different types of behaviors and personalities, he is a trusted Deal Supervisor due to the several times he had been able to warn the others of incoming aggression before it had even happened. Cleo is an abnormal exanimalis, whose scent covers the scent of members from other exanimalis.

“SurVIve is now ready to listen to Convex’s offer,” introduced Xisuma.

“The Convex has found a large boarding school north west of here and higher up. We have found it suitable to become our new headquarters. Unfortunately, it is overrun with exanimalis and none of our members are qualified to clear out such a densely packed building. The Convex requires surVIve to eliminate all exanimalis, fortify it, and make it more habitable. In exchange for this, we will provide supplies throughout the entire process, and half of the school’s grounds will become available to become the new base of surVIve.”

Xisuma thought for a moment.

“And what if we reclaim the school without any Convex involvement?”

False wasn’t sure if it was the sudden draft that weakened the fire was what made her shiver or the cold glare and threatening gaze the Vex gave Xisuma, as if they were sizing up prey. The fire came back roaring, making the shadows grow on their face, a malicious glint in their eyes as the flame reflected in them. False gripped her falchion.

“Then you underestimate the capabilities of the Vex.”

“Xisuma...” Instead of answering, he held up his left hand and had the palm face the floor, a signal to silence.

The crackle of the fire was the only ambience and background noise that could be heard for what seemed like forever, but other than that, everyone was tense except for Xisuma who’s body language seemed quite relaxed. He had a hand up to his lips, in thought.

Joe kept watching the subtle movements made by anyone, the Vex were aware they were being watched, False was ready to strike at any moment, and Cleo just seemed amused by the entire scene. Soon the downpour of rain came trickling down slowly and softly at first, but grew in intensity as Xisuma tried seeing all possible options and their outcomes. All ended in disaster.

Xisuma cleared his throat, startling everyone who was on edge. He straightened his back and raised his chin, asserting confidence.

“I, Xisumavoid, on behalf of surVIve, accept the Convex’s offer.” He offered a hand over the table, which Scar shook, sealing the deal.

SurVIve is going to reclaim a school to become the new base of surVIve and the Convex. Xisuma has just sealed the fate of his team. A fact that Scar deliberately left out is that the school became a Dumping Ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, hope the wait wasn't too long. From now on I'll update every week, but don't count on a consistent upload schedule.


	4. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When one door closes, another opens

“I look forward to our future arrangements, Xisuma.” Scar smiled. 

If False had any negative reactions, she hid it well. In fact, any reaction she may have had was concealed. Her blank expression, besides her clenched jaw, seemed natural and relaxed. 

False escorted the Vex upstairs as an extra measure of security. Xisuma, Joe, and Cleo heard shuffling right outside, indicating that the Vex made it out. 

“Well at least False didn’t murder them,” said Joe. 

Stomping echoed throughout the base and gradually grew louder and louder with every step, making the three at the first floor look up. Cleo jabbed, “Yeah, but I have a suspicion that somebody else is gonna get murdered by False by tonight.” She looked at Xisuma. 

False came down storming at the stairs. “I can’t believe you just agreed to their deal!” She stomped over to Xisuma and shoved him backwards, making him stumble over the desk he just had the deal at. 

“Look I had to-” 

“You just fucking signed over our lives to the CONVEX! You didn’t even question them!” 

“I couldn’t-” 

They continued arguing. Perhaps a better term would be: False continued yelling at Xisuma while he desperately tried to reason with her. Joe and Cleo watched the fight from a distance. 

Cleo leaned over to Joe and whispered, “Told ya someone’s gonna get their ass kicked.” 

Joe sighed and walked over to the pair. 

“It doesn’t fucking matter if we get killed for defying them! It beats dying like cattle cause they run a slaughter house!” responded False after Xisuma reasoned that surVIve would’ve gotten killed if he denied the offer. 

Joe pulled Xisuma aside and told her, “False, please. I’m also upset that the deal even happened but we need to work together.” He let go of Xisuma’s arm. “All of us are more than allies, we’re a team.” 

False glared at Xisuma and gestured at him with her fubar. “He doesn’t even know where the school is, what the name is, or whatever.” She composed herself and addressed Joe. “I’m not staying in a group like that.” 

Cleo stood up, shocked. “Wait- False-” 

She zipped up her jacket and fixed her goggles. “I’m leaving.” She scrambled up the stairs as Joe and Cleo followed. 

Xisuma just watched her leave up the stairs. 

He knew very well why she’s so mad. He knew very well why he shouldn’t have agreed. They’ve both got issues with the Vex after all. 

Whenever they encounter another group, which was becoming rarer and rarer, they all had stories to tell about the Vex, about how they would lose a member to them and they’re never seen again, about how the Vex seems to know nothing about their missing friend. Stories of half-truths and betrayals. 

But he still had to do it. The Convex are still better being their allies than their enemies. 

Muffled yelling became background noise until he heard a line that snapped him back to the harsher, colder reality of things. “Whatever, I’m just not gonna be the one to tell Ren and Doc that we’re fucking connies!” 

(Timeline: The day after the Deal) 

The sun hasn’t even risen yet, an untouched coldness still hung around the air from the rain yesterday, when Iskall stirred from his sleep. Some embers were still glowing from the campfire they built last night. He blinked around and readjusted his eyes to being awake. 

The Architechs have moved base, from an old building long abandoned before the apocalypse, they moved to an car shop, more specifically the tall parking lot that stored the cars that weren’t on display or was being repaired. 

They were on the fourth floor of the parking lot so Iskall had a decent view of the surrounding areas. Light was already seeping into the sky. 

He stumbled his way over to a car and checked the trunk, their new storage areas, and checked their rations. 

A can of carrots. Disappointing. 

Iskall looked over to the other two members who were still asleep. 

He gently woke Grian up, who looked up at him bleary eyed. “Wh-” 

“I’m just going to get more food okay? Tell Mumbo to keep fixing the radio when he wakes up.” 

“Yeah yeah...” Grian waved him off, rolling over. “Got it.” He went back to snoring. Iskall chuckled. 

He hopped on his bike and went down the ramp to the road outside. 

The car branch was far but still in bounds of the city, this was its distance with most things in fact. The warehouses were in that list of ‘most things’. His route mostly avoided any main roads or the unsaid boundaries of territory of other groups, it took longer but if he had to take a few extra minutes in exchange for a hostile encounter with other survivors, he’s more than willing to take those few extra minutes. 

But it’s been a long while since Iskall has seen any other survivors. It’s something he’s noticed for a while now. The first few supply runs he would see evidence of a settlement like campfires or bikes. 

Then the seasons changed. 

There was even less life in the summer. 

The grass that became overgrown in the spring started withering in autumn. 

Iskall didn’t have to guess what happened to the others. 

He decided to go through the city and pedaled faster. He pedaled through the steep roads. Through the narrow back alleys. He pedaled until he reached the halfway point between his base and the warehouses. 

Iskall stopped to catch his breath, sight going a little dizzy. He put down the stand of his bike and started rummaging around in case any valuable junk can be found. He entered a raided convenience store and started reading one of the few bottles left behind. 

He squinted and loosely grapsed it in his hand, the ride more taxing than he initially thought. “Ja-Jacob’s-” The glass bottle slipped from his grip, shattering loudly. 

Iskall tensed up and pulled out his fubar from his backpack, expecting a swarm. He ran to his bike but couldn’t get anywhere near it, the exanimalis heard the commotion. 

Stress was back at her solo base, packing up some essentials for her next scouting mission, when she heard something bone-chilling. 

The sound of shattering glass cut through the air like an unsharpened knife. Exanimalis made noise, they caused things to fall, but that noise was so inexplicably human, and she hasn’t seen one in a long time. 

She looked out of her apartment window and saw a swarm going towards the source, and a bike toppled over. 

“Oh lord.” 

Iskall wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. He was backing himself into a corner and the exanimalis kept coming faster than he could kill them. 

He was bashing in a head when out of the corner of his eye he saw an exanimalis’ get impaled in the head by an ice pick. Iskall whipped his head around and- 

The ice pick wielder pulled him through the swarm by his collar and threw him behind herself, making him lose balance slightly. 

He turned around to see his savior properly. 

“Stress!” 

She didn’t respond, swinging at the swarm. She turned, grabbed Iskall by the collar again, and led him away from the exanimalis. 

They entered the parking lot of Stress’s base and she let go of his collar. 

Iskall fixed himself, “Stress,” he heaved, “Thanks.” 

Stress put away her ice pick. “No need to thank me in words.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really unhappy with this chapter. It felt like I had to force it out of me. I kinda did though...


	5. Caught in a cobweb

_Stress's POV_

This is bad, very bad. Absolutely horrible.

_I should have just left him there to die_, Stress thought. _What have I brought to my doorstep?_

Iskall stared at the dispersing swarm. "I need to get back there." Stress stared at him.

The bike seemed banged up, offering no promises of working, but not offering the promises of being broken either.

"I can't stay here for long."

Stress got an idea. "Well I'm glad we have the same goal then."

Iskall was about to ask her, "What?", but she was already off.

At a damp and darker corner at the parking lot under the apartment. Stress pulled of a sheet of tarpaulin and revealed a terrain bike that was still shiny. "Take this and go."

Iskall's eyes widened, "What about you?"

Stress shook her head and pushed Iskall toward the bike, but it was already too late. The high pitched sing of a beacon resounded throughout the entire area, drawing exanimalis near it. She lost all the color in her face.

She whispered like she didn't have a voice, "They're here..." she turned around to check the surroundings, she turned back to face Iskall and said, "Hide."

Iskall nodded, still confused but knew she meant it. Stress watched him climb up a fire exit on the outside of the apartment. Just in time too, the Vex has just arrived.

They were on horseback, silent enough to avoid exanimalis, different and loud enough to get the attention of other survivors.

Cub hopped off his stallion with a huff. He strode his way over to Scar whom he helped dismount his horse. They had a quick exchange before even acknowledging Stress. Cub led the horses to a pole and tied them to it while Scar caned his way over to her.

He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Stress! How's it going, I hope you're doing well."

Stress gave a half genuine smile that nearly faltered when she saw Cub approaching the pair. "I'm doing great," she forced out.

"Well that's good to hear," Cub said, already at Scar's side, "Because we need to have a discussion." She winced.

"What is it about then?"

Scar opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind, instead saying "We need to have this discussion in privates, Stress, we can't risk having others hear about this."

_The only other survivor outside of my contacts are in this very building._

They made their way over to the second floor of the apartment building, Stress opened the door of one of the units and gestured them inside.

Despite being worn down, it was obviously one of the more maintained places in her base. Wooden furniture pieces that were stained and chipped littered and stacked at the walls of the small former living space. The best, which did not say much, table and chairs were placed in the middle and had the most space surrounding it. Even if it was still nearing noon, the shade cast by the other buildings and general dimness of the weather made the room look more abandoned and untouched than it actually was.

Stress made her way over to the small kitchen area and opened the overhead cupboards and pulled out a candle and a box of matches. She lit the candle and placed it on an ash tray she found lying around a few weeks ago and pocketed the box.

Scar had pulled out a chair for himself and sat down once the candle was lit, Stress mirrored the action.

"The Convex has made a deal with one of your contacts..."   
  
  


_Iskall's POV_

He let out a breath of relief when he realized the three probably weren't going to come out of that unit anytime soon. Quickly but carefully he got out from his position in the fire exit, passed by the unit, and made his way downstairs.

Iskall's breathing became more normal and looser when he made it to the stairs of the parking lot, only to be startled again by the presence of horses. He eyed the branding visible on the side of the saddles.

It showed a logo of sorts, circular and professional. ConCorp? Now where has he heard of that name before? Iskall was groping around his now hazy memories of before this whole fiasco but interrupted himself when he remembered why he even went here.

He looked around for the bike Stress offered, his eyes landed on it, pondering if he should go.

Iskall shook his head, dismissing his doubts and hesitations. He hopped on the bike and rode off.   
  
  


_Stress's POV_

"So we feel we should fully integrate you into their group, keeping track of two entities at the same time is difficult," Scar explained. Apparently surVIve made a deal with the Convex to reclaim a potential base, and proposed that Stress become an official member.

"But won't it defeat the purpose of the VI part of their name?" Stress forcefully joked. "And you even said that it was Xisuma who made the deal with you, not Doc, you know, the actual leader of the group."

Stress leaned back in hear chair, crossing her arms. "I'm not agreeing to joining surVIve until all of us can have a meeting to discuss this. Properly."

Scar mirrored her actions, yet more smug that defensive. "That won't be a problem," he gestured with his hands, "I had one of our villagers send them a request for a meeting to discuss the deal further. It was supposed to be today but there was a problem with attendance."

"Doc and Ren are missing?" Stress assumed but deemed unlikely. She encountered them a little far from their base yesterday but seemed very much capable and uninjured.

"False and Xisuma."

Stress stiffened, sitting straight with urgency. It would be unusual for either of them to go off the metaphorical radar, let alone both. "Wait, _they're_ the ones missing?"

Scar nodded, she couldn't read his emotion. "False was, uh, unhappy with the deal. She ran off, accusing Xisuma of putting their lives in danger. Then Xisuma ran after her not long after that. My villager arrived a little after when Ren and Doc did."

"What about Joe and Cleo?"

"They're non-fighters, Stress. They still had to take care of their base."

"Any news on when they might come back?"

Scar clicked his tongue and looked off to a corner of his eye to recall anything. "No."

Stress remained speechless, so Scar filled in the silence for her.

"Good news though, we're still having that meeting."****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is an incomplete Chapter 6 and an explanation for the discontinuation on the wattpad version.


End file.
